


over and over and over 'til we got it right

by flavus



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, California, Journalism, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining, San Francisco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 00:33:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11070336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flavus/pseuds/flavus
Summary: set in san francisco.-Before he could draw the ire of everyone else in line, Alex found himself being pointed at a sign from Aaron: “We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone.”“This is because I’m pan, isn't it?” Aaron heard Alex loudly scoff as he moved toward the door. Sighing, he proceeded to follow the unruly man and held the door open for him, Aaron meeting Alex’s eyes as he walked out.“No, it's not because of the sexual orientation I would've had no way of knowing. It's because you're disrupting business,” and at that Aaron dipped his voice to a whisper, “and because you need to sleep. Not blow all your money on coffee that you could frankly do without.”-aka a coffeeshop au





	over and over and over 'til we got it right

**Author's Note:**

  * For [angelsdemonsducks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsdemonsducks/gifts).



> this contains a lot of weird music metaphors, but i hope they're okay :")
> 
> any relation to circumstances that have happened in real life (at least, from my personal experience) are maybe coincidental. but i definitely drew on some things to write this story.
> 
> anyway, just a warning for some mildly explicit situations (sexual fantasies and such lol) in advance. and swearing oop.
> 
> i really, really hope you enjoy this! (ALSO YOU ARE AN INSANELY AMAZING WRITER. WOW I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS IS GOING TO YOU AHHHHHH OKOK PLEASE ENJOY :""))

**i. crescendo**  
  
-  
  
“Are you Aaron Burr?”  
  
On the receiving end of the blunt question, the barista stared at the bedraggled figure in front of him, who looked like he'd stuck his finger in an electrical socket. (He had the energy and the staticky hair to match.)   
  
“Huh?” he blinked, then lifted a quizzical eyebrow at the stranger. “It seems that I would be,” he said sarcastically after a seeming beat of silence passed between them, despite the jazzy music playing in the coffeeshop.  
  
The stranger across the counter followed the barista’s eyes, which were cast down toward his nametag. _Aaron Burr_ , it read.  
  
“Oh. Well.”  
  
Aaron thanked whatever natural forces existed in the world that the shop was close to empty, because this loud stranger was already attracting questioning looks from the few patrons present.  
  
“So, how can I help you? Are you going to order a drink or did you just come here to stare at me?” he quipped.  
  
“Sorry, sorry! I actually,” Alex paused to take a breath, and Aaron inwardly braced himself for the torrent of words he knew was coming, “- I’m just new in the city, you know, I moved cross-country and my friend John Laurens, he’s a resident up in New York, he suggested that I talk to you since you’re the only person he knows in California. And he’s probably coming down for a visit since he’s been thinking about moving to San Francisco, but right now I’m here on an assignment for the _New York Ti_ -” His hands were flapping a mile a minute, and the scene made a smile ghost across Aaron's face. But there was something else he was thinking about -  
  
“John Laurens, huh?” Aaron hadn’t talked to Laurens in two years, at least not seriously - the two still sent each other holiday messages on each others’ Facebook walls, but conversation never went past a half-hearted “How are you?”. “What did he say about me?” Subconsciously, Aaron felt himself leaning closer.  
  
“He thinks you’re amazing, actually! I know you kind of moonlight as a barista, but he told me about how you’re just raising money to start your own coffeeshop and you’re actually a business whiz, and he told me this crazy story about how you won the stocks game in your beginning economics class in college because you just intuitively understood which ones to invest in. I just thought it’d be cool to get to know one of his friends.”  
  
“I guess an americano, then - decaf, probably,” Aaron murmured under his breath, wondering if Alex ever stopped talking.  
  
“Please, not decaf - I have to go check out this diplomat at the UN building in,” Alex checked his watch, “Ten minutes!” he screeched.  
  
Aaron tried hard to refrain from rolling his eyes. “Okay, one americano, not decaf. Anything special for that?”  
  
“Five shots of espresso?” Alex looked hopefully at Aaron, who groaned and wondered how Alex was still alive. He’d have to talk to Laurens about this, somehow.  
  
“I’m giving you the normal two,” Aaron stated calmly, and proceeded to make the order. He could’ve sworn he saw Alex pouting childishly out of the corner of his eye (cutecute _cute_ , he was an actual puppy, stop  _talking_ already, mind-Aaron), but ignored it and handed the man his coffee.  
  
“Thank you, thank you, thank you, have a nice day!” Alex almost yelled as he ran out the coffeeshop, his words blurring together and Aaron’s eyes unconsciously trailing after him as he left.  
  
“Well, he certainly was something,” smirked Lafayette, Aaron’s manager and friend, elbowing him playfully.   
  
“That he was,” Aaron acknowledged, nodding and rolling his eyes.  
  
“You seem...enamored, I feel? I've never seen you show that much emotion to a stranger," Lafayette winked. "Or that much emotion in general."  
  
Aaron almost choked on air. “No, no - of course not! He talks too much for his own good, and I can’t imagine how people put up with him on a daily basis. And what kind of person needs that much coffee? Does he even sleep?”  
  
Lafayette chuckled. “You know, I could say the same for you.”  
  
“Hmph.”  
  
-  
  
The next time Aaron glimpsed Alex in the coffeeshop - which was, surprisingly, the next day - he groaned to himself. He was face to face with a long line, and he knew Alex would try to make conversation with him. Which meant that the stares would only multiply, and he would have to do his best to sink into the ground and disappear.

What he didn't expect was a significantly more bedraggled Alex standing listlessly at the end of the line, such a change from the energetic Alex he'd seen only yesterday.

“Alex,” he started, surprise creeping into his tone, “What's wrong?”

“...Mffff...Need...coffee,” Alex grunted out.

Dear God. Aaron could only begin to imagine how bad the man’s attachment to coffee had grown.

“No,” he said bluntly.

Somehow the word energized Alex to the point of red-hot fury.

“Hey! What do you mean, ‘No’? I am a paying customer and-”

Before he could draw the ire of everyone else in line, Alex found himself being pointed at a sign from Aaron: “We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone.”

“This is because I’m pan, isn't it?” Aaron heard Alex loudly scoff as he moved toward the door. Sighing, he proceeded to follow the unruly man and held the door open for him, Aaron meeting Alex’s eyes as he walked out.

“No, it's not because of the sexual orientation I would've had no way of knowing. It's because you're disrupting business,” and at that Aaron dipped his voice to a whisper, “and because you need to sleep. Not blow all your money on coffee that you could frankly do without.”

Alex paused while walking out, and for a moment, Aaron could’ve sworn that all the coffee he'd had went to his eyes, which were a deep swirling brown, passion the bubbly sheen at the top, and-

He gave a minuscule shake of the head. Lafayette was probably struggling with the rest of the customers and needed his help, since they were the only ones there that early in the morning. And here he was, still clutching onto a door waiting for someone to walk out.

Sure enough, “Aaron!” came ringing out from a disgruntled Lafayette, and he hurriedly all but shoved Alex out of the door, pretending like he didn't remember the feel of Alex's skin against his - No, he had a job to do. 

“I see you've finally discovered your ‘joie de vivre,’” Lafayette smirked at him as he rushed back behind the counter. “And it isn't making coffee.”

“It's selling coffee?” he quipped back, ignoring Lafayette’s knowing look and the flush spreading across his face.

“Sure, mon ami. If that's what you want to believe,” Lafayette shrugged, and the two of them fell into a comfortable silence.

And the image of one Alexander Hamilton, eyes dulled and clothes ruffled, from earlier that morning, definitely didn't stick in Aaron's mind. It definitely did not make him worried. At all. And he was not going to call Laurens after work asking about Alex.

-

“So what can you tell me about Alex? I mean, is he looking for a place to crash or something - why'd you give him my name so he could look for me when he got to SF?” Aaron absentmindedly fiddled with the ends of his blanket as he sat on the couch talking to Laurens.

“Alex really didn't say anything, huh?”

Well, Aaron wanted to retort, it's a little bit hard to talk to someone when you don't have their number and the only two times you've seen them were when you were working.

Instead he just murmured assent, a cue for Laurens to keep talking.

“He and I, well -”

The pregnant pause said everything Aaron needed to know.

“You were dating. Or are. But you're on a break regardless and Laurens, damn you for being too nice for your own good at the worst possible times, you gave him someone to talk to even if you were hurting? Who the fuck-”

“I'm sorry, okay! I just didn't want him to be alone. And though we haven't really talked at all, not since you moved out-”

Sure, make that my fault that I wanted to go to the West Coast and you wanted to stay in New York, Aaron mentally griped.

“-I still remember you being the go-to person when we were in college and I needed someone to talk to. I,” Laurens swallowed, “I didn't want him to be alone.”

An image of the ruffled Alex popped into his head, and Aaron found that that time he looked remarkably like a lost puppy.

“I don't mean to pry-” he definitely did “-but did you two talk today?”

A pause that felt like the physical distance between them passed.

“Yeah,” his friend admitted slowly. “Yeah, I asked him how long he was staying and he yelled at me, said he'd be here however long it took to get the job done.”

Aaron felt just a smidgen of guilt for the man when he heard a heavy sigh on the other end.

“It'll be fine, Laurens. You'll be fine, you always are.”

“Thanks, Burr. You know, we should catch up more often. It feels good.”

Aaron found that he wasn't lying when he agreed and said goodbye.

So. This was interesting.

-

If there was something to be said for persistence, it was exemplified- dictionary definition and all - by Alexander Hamilton.

The following morning, he looked brighter, stumbling into the coffeeshop thirty minutes earlier than he had the prior day. (Aaron, keeping track? No. How weird was that, anyway.)

Aaron had turned away from the counter to help another customer to avoid being distracted or provoked by Alex, but lo and behold, he found himself talking to the energetic man yet again.

“Alexander,” he sighed, and the man lit up.

“Hey, I think that's the first time you've called me that! Usually you just say Alex, but-”

“It's been two days since we met. I'm bound to vacillate between names.”

“Okay, okay - who uses the word vacillate in everyday conversation? But I mean, I guess to each their own. Hey, I never did tell you how that meeting with the diplomat went! So, I guess they don't really use taxis in SF and it was weird not having the subway, so I contemplated running before I realized-”

“Alex, that's lovely,” Aaron said, exasperated. “But can you just order quickly so we can help the other customers, please? If you really want to talk,” he added reluctantly at seeing Alex’s put-out expression, “I'll give you my number and you can call me. If it's important,” he stressed the last word, “But I guess if not you can just text.”

He scribbled his number on Alex’s cup and proceeded to make the order, a black coffee with only two shots of espresso, not the five Alex had pleaded for.

As Alex flashed a smile while paying and left, Aaron wondered what he'd gotten himself into.

“Of all the coffeeshops in the world,” he murmured.

-  
  
Later, Aaron received a text from an unknown number. He knew it was an unknown number because he had a ringtone for each person in his contacts - from the Jaws theme, for his uncle, who he was basically estranged from, to Loyalty by Kendrick Lamar for Lafayette - and when the preset text tone rang out, he couldn’t put to bed the niggling suspicion that it’s Alexander.  
  
He stared at his phone, on the side table in his room, from the comfort of his blankets, and thought about getting it.  
  
He could take it and have a late-night conversation with Alex, but then again, he could also end up texting something he regretted. Or he could leave it and pretend that he’d given Alex the wrong number or -  
  
No. John didn’t want his ex-? His..friend to be alone, Aaron resolved.  
  
(His handsome, talkative, annoyingly vibrant friend. But those were just semantics, he thought.)  
  
So he pushed himself out of his bed and went to grab his phone, groaning as he saw a text that looked like it took at least ten minutes to write. He wondered if all of Alex’s texts were essays typed in Microsoft Word or Google Docs before being pasted into the little text box, which he felt sorry for having to fit so many letters. Even if it was all electronic.  
  
Then he admonished himself, because of course - Alex was lonely. It was his first week in a new city, doing a job that - what did Alex do, anyway?  
  
Sighing, but also curious, Aaron opened the text and scanned it, after adding Alex into his contacts. He’d wait to give the man an actual ringtone until after he knew him better.  
  
_Alex_ : this is aaron, right? Okay so - sorry in advance, this will be a lot to take in. But I don’t know if you’ve talked to John yet. Anyway. If you haven’t, I’m a journalist, and my beat is more international politics - I used to be stationed in New York, and I was an intern for the _New York Times_ , but then I decided that I wanted to be more involved in exploring political tensions around the West Coast - so U.S. political interactions with Asian countries and of course, Mexico. And that’s why i was meeting with someone at the UN when we first met. So as I was saying earlier, I’m really used to riding the subway in New York, and sometimes taxis, but here in SF I guess you guys don’t have those things? I mean, there’s the BART, but it’s not quite the same. BUT. The meeting went well and I actually wasn’t late? For once? And I think I got some good information, but it means I’ll have to be stationed here awhile. Maybe. I don’t know if they’ll post me abroad, but the political climate right now would be perfect for exploration. I just have to not get shot. :””) Oops. Well, now you know about me, Aaron. I guess - Sorry. I just was looking for a friend, I guess, because I don’t know anyone in the city and it feels - cold, and a little unfriendly. A bit like New York, but I was surrounded by familiarities there, and here everything is distant and new, although a lot warmer (in the literal sense). Thanks for giving me your number, by the way. And for skipping the full five shots and just putting in two and for just generally being nice. You’re so nice, has anyone told you that? Okay. I think I’m gonna head in for bed right now, so. Thanks for reading this.  
  
Something tugged at Aaron’s heart when he read Alex gushing at the end. As if - no. No, Laurens and Alexander were - a thing, he reminded himself. And thus, any...suggestive thoughts were off-limits.  
  
Regardless of that, he didn’t want to offend Alex by not typing a response at least half as lengthy, so he thought for a moment and began crafting a reply.  
  
_Aaron_ : Hi, Alex. It’s me, Aaron - thanks for taking the time to tell me about your day. Your job sounds pretty exciting - what’s it like being a jetsetter and getting to travel, as I assume you do? I can’t imagine uprooting my life like that multiple times. Then again, I’m probably a hypocrite, as I’ve moved quite a bit. And I might move again, when - if - I open my own coffeeshop, as John mentioned to you. I don’t quite know what’s drawn me to coffee: maybe because I drank it at an early age, when I was eight or so, and it just felt like home. Maybe it’s because my sister was the one who introduced me to it, and she’s been one of the only constants in my life. But coffee brings people together, and it makes them happy, and people deserve something better than the quality of coffee at Starbucks. And I’d like to hope that I’ve learned enough about coffee from where I work that it’d be feasible to open up my shop, but I don’t have enough capital, even -  
  
Shit.  
  
He was already in too deep, already spilling out his life story to someone who didn’t even care, who was probably going to move on anyway.  
  
Aaron took a breath, inhaled and exhaled shakily, and deleted the latter half of his text, so what he ended up sending was-  
  
_Aaron:_ Hi, Alex. It’s me, Aaron -  thanks for taking the time to tell me about your day. Your job sounds pretty exciting - what’s it like being a jetsetter and getting to travel, as I assume you do? I can’t imagine uprooting my life like that multiple times. Then again, I’m probably a hypocrite, as I’ve moved quite a bit. And I might move again, when - if - I open my own coffeeshop, as John mentioned to you. But that’s a story for another time. I wouldn’t mind being your friend at all, and if you need anything know that I’m just a text away.  
  
-  
  
The next time Alex appeared in the coffeeshop - or at least the next time Aaron saw him in the coffeeshop - he wore a triumphant look on his face. According to him, he’d come every day, but his schedule as a journalist was so sporadic that he was rarely able to catch Aaron.  
  
And not that Aaron minded, really. Especially when the two of them had been talking for the past few months.  
  
Initially, their conversation was stilted, especially on Aaron’s end: Alex was so open, so giving with his words and experiences, to the point that Aaron wondered how he ever made the word limit on his articles and felt that he should just write op-eds so he wouldn’t be bounded by word constraints. Plus, Aaron felt the slightest bit uncomfortable getting close to someone Laurens still had feelings for - he still saw the songs filling Laurens’ late night playlists, and they were definitely songs for the heartsick. He remembered in college how territorial Laurens had gotten over a guy they both liked, Jonathan Bellamy, and didn’t want to draw his friend’s ire.  
  
But Alex made it so _easy_ to open up to him. It was probably why he became a journalist: because he loved to talk, and he was compelling to listen to. Or in their case, read texts from. Alex’s stories about what happened during his day, from getting lost in Costco - “I never went inside a Costco in New York, you know? I just didn’t expect it to be so big! And so many samples - I swear, I was in heaven,” to running into an old rival - “Oh god, and then when I showed up at the diplomat’s office, guess who was the diplomat? None other than the infamous, arrogant, Thomas Jefferson. God. I swear, I could rip his face off - I mean, he is ridiculously attractive, but also insanely hard to put up with.” - just made it easier for Aaron to feel like-  
  
Like he was important to Alex.  
  
Like he meant something.  
  
And it was hard to admit, but that felt good, because he hadn’t felt cared about by anyone except himself, cared for in the way Alex cared for him, in a long, long time.  
  
So Aaron found himself opening up to Alex. Telling him what he’d wanted to say in the first text, about how his love affair with coffee had nebulous origins - how he wasn’t sure where it started, but he just wanted to make people feel like they had a home, through a sip of one of his drinks, through stepping into a place that was a safe haven no matter what. Explaining the situation with his rich uncle, who hadn’t accepted his dream to build a coffeeshop, and much less his bisexuality, how it got so bad that Aaron just wanted a clean break and moved to the other side of the country. Telling him about the first months in San Francisco, how he’d felt kind of how he’d imagined Alex feeling: unmoored, scared, lonely, even with the Princeton degree and the so-called connections, and how Lafayette and Jefferson (much to Alex’s surprise) had made him feel welcome. Like he belonged.  
  
Slowly, Aaron had remembered just how nice it was to have a friend in his life: someone who wanted to talk to him, to hear what was going on in his daily life, without any ulterior motives. Because he was just being nice. 

Maybe the worst part was knowing that he wanted Alex to be - more than a friend, picturing Alex naked underneath him, Alex placing his hands under Aaron's face, Aaron getting to kiss the small scar underneath Alex's left ear that he'd so often observed-

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty! Get your ass back in gear,” Lafayette not-so-quietly whispered, shoving Aaron in the midst of his thoughts.  
  
“Okay, okay - hey, Alex, just the normal for you today?”  
  
“Yeah,” he said, looking more down than normal. Kind of like he had on the second day Aaron had met him, he thought.  
  
So he added an extra shot for Alex, did a little cute foam design on the top of the coffee, and sent him out the door, but as soon as he went on a break, he sent out a text.  
  
_Aaron_ : Hey, you okay? You looked a little down.  
                                                          ** _Read, 12:15 p.m._**  
  
Aaron got antsier and antsier as his shift continued, wondering if he’d done something wrong. Their last conversation through text had been pretty mundane, them basically sharing stories about their days - rowdy customers for Aaron and uncooperative officials for Alex - but nothing that either of them could have been worried about.  
  
Lafayette kept looking at Aaron with a concerned look, which made him feel even more nervous, and finally he couldn’t take it anymore. Handing his apron to Lafayette with an, “I’ll text you later,” he left the coffeeshop and started looking for Alex.  
  
It was a typical SF day: cloudy and windy and all sorts of cold, and even through his windbreaker Aaron could still feel touches of chill. Vaguely, he recalled that Alex hadn’t been wearing anything that could be considered warm - a button-up, but no sweater or coat, and frantically he began to rush through the crowds.  
  
Building after building passed in a blind haze as he staggered across streets in search of one familiar face, but it wasn’t until he stopped to breathe that he saw Alex.  
  
It was at their favorite spot, on top of a street, where looking down all you saw was color disturbed only by the constant gray of the road. There was an ice cream shop where the two of them had met once or twice, when their schedules allowed for it - when Alex’s schedule allowed for it, really - and he knew that whenever Alex wanted to calm down from something, he ate ice cream.  
  
So it wasn’t a surprise that when he got to the shop, Alex was sitting, face turned toward the street, eyes fixed on some distant point.  
  
“Alex?”  
  
“Aaron,” he started, and motioned to leave.  
  
“No, wait!” Aaron frantically, spontaneously, found himself grabbing Alex's sleeve, gently but firmly.   
  
“Aaron, I-” Alex seemed to be struggling, so Aaron sat down and waited. Patiently. Alex was pacing frantically, gesturing as he talked to himself, and Aaron could see the billions of fights going on in his eyes, and-  
  
Suddenly he was greeted with the sensation of warm lips against his own, an overwhelming butter pecan flavor, sweet and silky in his mouth, and _god_ , he didn’t ever think he would have the chance to do this, so he took, he took Alex’s lips in his and led them in a dance, and _oh god,_ his hands were in Alex's hair, softer than silk, and Alex's hands were holding his back steady and - and - 

and then:  
  
“Alex.” A frosty voice, somewhat familiar, was all it took for Alex to push him back. “And Burr.”  
  
Only one person he still talked to still called him Burr.

Only one person he - used to talk to.  
  
“Laurens,” he gulped, and fled.

(He didn't need to see them reunite. Didn't need to see Laurens taking, taking what he'd wanted, taking someone he thought he was falling in love with.)  
  
////////////  
  
**ii. diminuendo  
  
** -  
  
Alex laid on the floor of his apartment and groaned as he flipped over his phone to find nothing.  
  
Nothing. That was all he’d heard from Aaron since the-  
  
Well, since John came here, and everything went to shit. The lead he was chasing, a diplomat who was actually an operative for the KGB and was organizing a ring of fellow diplomats, some from China, some from Japan, and some from Mexico, who were also clandestine operatives for their own countries, had been busted, and he was just biding his time in SF hoping that he would get another story to chase after.  
  
Six days. Six days were all he had before the _Times_ called him back to New York, and he didn’t know when he’d find himself in California or the United States again. He didn’t even know if he would have his job after finding out that the lead was all a sham and he’d come here for nothing.  
  
Alex buried his head in his hands, and behind him he heard light footsteps.  
  
“Hey, babe, you okay?”  
  
“I’m fucking fantastic, thanks,” he sniped at John, and instantly felt bad. It wasn’t his fault. Okay, so maybe it was his fault that him and Aaron couldn’t - but - him and John were forever, right? That’s what they’d promised. That’s what they’d told each other, right before Alex got this assignment and John complained that all Alex did was leave and in the middle of yelling until their throats were hoarse, they decided they needed a break.  
  
John just chuckled, but sadly. “I guess you need some time alone, huh? I’ll head out for some groceries.”  
  
With John gone, Alex felt like he could breathe.  
  
That wasn’t how it was supposed to be in a relationship, right? Not when they loved each other. Not when Alex still got butterflies when he saw John, unguarded, reading a book or sketching passersby, his hair sticking up on one side of his head or his hands running through his hair. Not when John flew all the way just to see him, looking at him like he _mattered_. When John had arrived, catching Alex and Aaron in a...compromising position, Alex had thought John would explode - as normal - and Aaron would quietly leave. He was only right about the latter part: as soon as Aaron realized who was there, he'd bolted, and honestly, Alex couldn't blame him.  
  
John had been so understanding about Aaron, in that he’d excused it as a moment of weakness, Alex missing John to the point that he was seeing pieces of him in his friends, but Alex knew that was wrong.  
  
He wanted to talk to Aaron, so badly it hurt, but he knew that Aaron was avoiding him. When he’d gone to the coffeeshop at a time he knew Aaron would be working, Lafayette greeted him with a glare as frosty as the shop’s frappuccinos and served him decaf. (The nerve, Alex thought.) And Aaron hadn’t been there.  
  
He’d gone back a few times, but with no success and the same thing happening, so after getting non-stop decaf coffee he decided to play Benedict Arnold and hop to another coffeeshop. The coffee wasn’t as good (because Aaron isn’t making it, his traitorous mind responded) but it was doable. It kept him awake. It kept him functional.  
  
But what was he even doing?  
  
He’d started a career in journalism because he loved to tell stories, and because he loved knowing what was going on in the world - but for the most part, the stories. He loved to bring the stories out of people, and he couldn’t pretend that’s what he’d done with Aaron. At first, he’d just been interested in Aaron, interested in picking him apart because he seemed so enigmatic and John had been so profuse with praise about his friend. He’d been flirting, quite obviously, if he thought so himself, and been doing everything he could to be warm for Aaron.  
  
But then he fell for him. He wanted to tell Aaron that he loved the way Aaron talked about coffee, and that what coffee was to Aaron - a home - Aaron was to him. That Aaron could tell stories even better than he could, somehow made him feel brighter than he was, even when he was feeling shitty about working in a field that everyone said was dying and was unimportant.  
  
And he missed that. He missed having a friend, even if it was a friend he wanted to pin against the wall and kiss heatedly and have madly passionate sex with.  
  
But that was John, right? John was his friend. And he also wanted to bang John, as crude as it sounded.  
  
“Too many questions for one day,” he muttered, just as he heard John close the door and come inside.  
  
“You alright? I got us some eggs for breakfast and some fried chicken for tonight. Safeway’s the true plug and I definitely didn’t think I’d see one here,” John said, trying to make conversation, but turning quiet when he saw how stonily silent Alex was.  
  
“Babe? Food’s here,” he murmured in Alex’s ear, instead. And Alex appreciated that John was trying, that he cared in his own bumbling way. It was how they'd made it work. They  _knew_ each other, inside and out.

(Did he really know John? And did John really know him? Alex wondered if time was really the determinant of a relationship's seriousness.)  
  
“Thanks,” he said, turning to press a kiss to John’s cheek. It felt different.  
  
John’s cheek felt rougher, stiffer. And kissing him didn’t bring the spark that kissing Aaron did.  
  
Kissing Aaron.  
  
Alex was doing everything in his power not to think of the kiss, but two weeks had already passed and nothing had changed: every single night, he’d slide his hand up his dick and jerk off to the thought of Aaron, naked, under him or over him, depending on what kind of day he’d had. Imagining Aaron’s face, open, bare, vulnerable, a maroon flush sliding across his face as he screamed “Alexander” in that silky vibrato of his-  
  
And it was so wrong, he knew that. Everything was so wrong, because he was supposed to be back together with John, who’d come back to definitively say that they were no longer on a break, that he’d support Alex no matter what. Because he was supposed to just stay friends with Aaron, who was only a crutch meant to support him until he could stabilize himself in San Francisco to the point that he could walk on his own. Because his career was supposed to be taking off after this lead panned out.  
  
Instead, he thought dryly, he was a deadbeat. A deadbeat journalist whose ideas leaked far too much into his articles for them to be _Times_ -caliber, and even if the quality of his writing was damn good, he knew he was bound to be on the chopping block soon because of his opinions. A deadbeat stuck in a relationship going nowhere fast, one that he didn’t even have the courage to escape, still half in like - or love? - with someone he’d inadvertently meant to lead on but ended up falling for.  
  
And here he was, doing nothing about everything. Sounds about right, he thought grimly. It made him feel disgusting, that he’d always been so driven and passionate about his goals but now was - stuck. And terrified to do what he actually wanted.  
  
Aaron made you feel brave, the little voice in his head said. He smacked it, metaphorically, and decided to go to sleep. Vaguely he registered John in the other room, turning pages, reading new chapters, exploring new worlds. 

But sleep didn't let him explore anything new, the smug voice in his head remarked, because he'd let Aaron haunt his dreams too.

-  
  
Three days left, and Alex still hadn’t found anything that even remotely resembled the beginnings of a workable story. Then again, he wasn’t really trying. What he had been trying to do was find Aaron, and talk to him: he’d sent him one or two texts (or more like twenty-one texts and twenty-nine calls), but the radio silence still persisted. Which meant that Alex had to take matters into his own hands: where did Aaron go whenever he was stressed?  
  
He racked his brain and finally came up with a short list of three places: the library tucked away in a corner of Russian Hill, the hole-in-the-wall restaurant in Japantown that made the ramen Aaron had once gushed about to him, and the India Baseline Park, what Aaron had called a “hidden gem of the city.”  
  
The first two leads - just like his story, he quipped to himself - led to nothing. He'd spent the whole day trekking around the city, running on an americano from Starbucks (he shuddered) and despite the breeze, he was sweaty and exhausted when he reached the last place.  
  
Alex felt like he was dreaming, then, when he finally got to the park and saw Aaron sitting on a bench, staring at the bay. For a moment, he could’ve sworn that his heart stopped, and though he heard the faint ringing of his phone from his back pocket he ignored it.  
  
He’d probably regret that later.

But talking to Aaron was more important at the moment.  
  
Talking, not kissing, or fucking, he counseled his body as he approached his friend. Crush? Lover? Who knows, he groaned, exasperated, and the noise made Aaron turn to face him with the coldest look he’d ever seen from someone. And coming from someone who’d been glared at by angry diplomats, furious New York drivers, and one argumentative Thomas Jefferson, that was saying a lot.  
  
“So. Hamilton.”  
  
He hated when Aaron did that, diminished him to a last name, to any other Hamilton that he’d known. Aaron knew he hated that, and had done it to piss him off a few times, when they’d gotten riled up at each other over trivial things.  
  
But this didn’t feel trivial, at least not how Aaron was treating it. Suddenly he wanted to sink deep into the ground and never emerge under the force of Aaron's frostiness.  
  
“Can I - sit?” he managed to stutter out, his heart in his mouth. Shit. This was not how he planned on things going. He fiddled with his hands, trying to dispel the energy that was suddenly rushing through his body.  
  
Aaron silently motioned to the spot next to him, and as soon as Alex sat down, trembling, Aaron started talking, in a slow, measured voice that Alex subconsciously registered as reminiscent of endings. He glanced at Aaron out of the corner of his eye, too afraid to meet his glare head on.  
  
“You know, I never thought - I should’ve never answered that text. I thought about leaving it unread. Thought about telling you you had the wrong number,” Aaron said in barely a whisper, still staring at the setting sun.  
  
“Aaron-”  
  
“If you’re going to try to explain, don’t. I know what you were doing. Jefferson told me-”  
  
“You’re going to believe _Jefferson_? After the past few months you’ve known me, you’d just-” There was bile rising up in his throat; he shoved it down and stared fixedly at the grass in front of him.  
  
“He took care of me when I was here, alone, and my uncle didn’t give a fuck about me. Him and Lafayette. So yes, I think I’d put stock in what Jefferson - _Thomas_ \- would have to say about you. And even though he doesn’t like you, he took the time to try and think of _objective_ things to tell me about you because he knew-” Aaron took a deep breath and turned to face Alex, who turned his head to see that Aaron's were glistening with tears.  
  
He reached out to hold Aaron’s hand, out of - what, reflex? Desire? Memory? He didn’t know, and didn't want to explore the question. Either way, Aaron pulled away, scooting to the absolute end of the bench, and visibly looked like he was struggling to regain control.  
  
They sat there, breathing, looking at the sunset. Together, but so apart, Alex thought bitterly.  
  
After a few seconds of stifling silence, Aaron began again, quieter.  
  
“I thought we were friends. I thought you were with John. And Thomas was right, you know? He said that you used to hit on everyone. Like you wanted to know their stories so you’d have more power, so you could sell them out if they were ever interesting enough,” he whispered, and Alex could hear him choking back tears.  
  
The worst thing was, he wasn’t wrong about everything.  
  
He wasn’t wrong, and Alex could feel a pit of despair open up in his stomach and drag him down. He could see Aaron leave out of the corner of his eye, but now Alex felt more stuck than ever. He hadn’t said what he needed to say, he hadn’t said that he was sorry, he hadn’t said that what he felt was _real_. And he wanted Aaron to know that yeah, he was an ass, but he really did care, and he was an ass who had the decency to admit his mistakes-  
  
But he just felt numb, and crushed, and it was far past twelve o’clock when he mustered up the strength to get back to the apartment. To John. To a future he no longer fit into.  
  
-  
  
It was his last day in San Francisco, and John was treating him to a grand tour. Or rather, John had scanned Yelp to find what were all ultimately tourist traps, in Alex’s opinion, and was leading Alex to places full of crowds of empty faces.  
  
“Look, the seals are so cute!” John beamed at Alex, who tried his best to drum up enthusiasm. His efforts resulted in a smile that almost - but not quite - reached his eyes; after all, the seals - and John - were pretty cute, and he was lucky to be here.   
  
(You still haven’t forgotten, he reminded himself. You don’t forget the kind of person like Aaron - you don’t forget Aaron.)  
  
“So where do you want to go next?” he asked John, careful not to let awkwardness drift into his voice.  
  
Maybe if John led them, it would be easier. He would just have to follow along, even if it felt like their relationship was a paint-by-numbers and he was trying to be the next Vincent Van Gogh.   
  
But he was so, so exhausted of being a follower. Of falling into the same old patterns because he was too comfortable to break them, of striving for goals and never stopping to think of whether his goals always remained the same.  
  
“Well, I was thinking that we could hit up that coffeeshop you used to go to. Just for one last time, since you seemed to like it so much?”  
  
No. No, every fiber of Alex’s body yelled at him, don’t go back and see Aaron because you’ll do something stupid - but he probably wasn’t even working there anymore. He probably left the city, probably headed for LA or somewhere else to build his own dream.  
  
Well. He was feeling rather Gryffindor-ian today, if he said so himself.  
  
“Let’s go.”

-  
  
When the two of them arrived at the coffeeshop, it was nearly empty. The sun poured in from the windows, the light landing on the last person Alex wanted to see and the first person he needed to. Aaron.  
  
And at that moment, he knew what he had to do, and had to say, and he was ready. He’d prepared himself, and he'd made notecards to prepare just in case he'd ever had the chance - or well, whenever he was ready. And he'd texted his old roommate from college, Hercules Mulligan, asking if he could crash provided he paid rent, because he knew when he got back to New York, everything would change.   
  
He took a deep breath and looked at the floor. It was all too much for one time, but he was done waiting.  
  
“Go ahead and order,” John urged him. “I’ll talk to Aaron, if he’s what’s making you uncomfortable.”  
  
Alex swallowed. “No, it’s cool. I got this.” He fiddled with a loose strand of hair, just to have something tangible to hold onto, and started walking to the counter, but before catching Aaron’s eye, he turned and walked back to John.

It wasn't right to say something to Aaron before Alex fixed the other things that were wrong in his life. And though there were many he could think of, there was one he had to set right immediately, for everyone's sakes.  
  
“You can’t do this? It’s okay, we’ll go-” John started before Alex cut him off.  
  
“Yeah, you’re right, John,” he sighed. “I can’t do this. Let’s go outside?” He motioned to a table outside the coffeeshop, where they sat down together and left separately.

(Alex pretended that he didn't hope Aaron was watching when he pressed a chaste kiss to John's cheek and sent him off, sitting in the chair for a few minutes longer and staring at the San Francisco cityscape.)

A dark shadow, familiar, swept over the table moments after Alex left.  
  
////////////  
  
**iii. coda, outro**  
  
-  
  
For all the life experiences he’d had, Aaron would never have thought he could count getting led on as one of them.  
  
And he wasn’t about to, apparently. Before Alex had left for New York, Lafayette and Jefferson had somehow pulverized the truth out of him: though Alex had initially tried to lead him on, it hadn’t been as malevolent as Aaron had thought, and supposedly it had developed into real feelings.  
  
But although Aaron now understood how Alex was feeling at the time, and felt a twinge of guilt for putting him down so harshly when the man had come to talk to him at the park, he knew there were things he had to fix with himself before getting into a relationship again, before letting himself reestablish contact with Alexander to see if they could rebuild a friendship.  
  
He’d grown to depend on Alex too much, but the only reason he’d done that was because he wasn’t opening himself to anyone else. He hadn’t given anyone a chance to come in, even Lafayette and Jefferson - he remembered Lafayette's remark, so long ago when he'd first met Alex - "I've never seen you show that much emotion to anyone" - and he realized that in doing so, he’d shut himself out.  
  
Lafayette and Jefferson had been instrumental in helping him get back on his feet - metaphorically at least. Jefferson helped coach him - "I'll call it an investment in you, and you can pay me back with some good-ass coffee," he'd quipped - for negotiations with some local business owners who leased Aaron a cushy, hole-in-the-wall space near downtown San Francisco, and Lafayette had generously offered Aaron the tips he earned each shift. They even commissioned a local artist, James Madison, to help with the design concepts and to curate and paint the works in the shop. He was soft-spoken and utterly hilarious in an inexplicable way when he opened his mouth and Jefferson was enamored with him.

The four of them began meeting for drinks and dinner once every week and trade horror stories from their work, and thinking of the time that Jefferson, who was interrupted by a coworker, had dropped his precious mac-and-cheese on his leather oxfords and was more upset about the mac-and-cheese never failed to make Aaron laugh. "Mac-and-cheese is a  _serious_ thing, Aaron. You really should consider including it on your coffeeshop menu, because it is an American classic. The most glorious food ever created, I declare." James had laughed, rolled his eyes, and told Thomas he was absolutely, batshit crazy. Right there and then, Thomas swore he would never let James go.

After months of the quartet's hard work, and Aaron pushing aside his reservations toward his uncle to persuade him to give Aaron at least a fraction of his inheritance, he was putting the final touches on his own coffeeshop: Bean There, Done That, and tomorrow he opened. Tomorrow was the day.  
  
He liked to think that Alex would’ve been happy with the pun he used - but Alex’s opinion didn’t matter, he reminded himself. No one else’s but his did, in the end. For a while, he'd followed Alex's career: though Alex had still been a beat writer when he retreated to New York, his articles slowly became farther and fewer between, until finally there was an online blurb published in which the  _Times_ announced Alex's departure from the paper. Last he'd heard, Alex was a professor at his alma mater, Columbia, and teaching an upper div class on the complex power dynamics between the United States and foreign nations. 

He seemed happy, and Aaron was happy for him. 

But Aaron had also learned to be happy for himself, and he felt a surge of anticipation rush through him as he finished polishing the coffeemakers in the back. Everything was gleaming, and he could see the reflection of his smile, bright and expectant. 

While making labels for each type of coffee to put on the coffeemakers and finishing the rest of the signs for the shop, he could hear someone stepping through the door, and recognized Lafayette’s familiar tread.  
  
“I still get excited when I hear that bell ring,” he admitted, feeling an embarrassed flush spread over his face as Lafayette came up behind him. “I’m just - I can’t believe this is actually happening, you know? I don’t think I’ve ever been this excited for something in my life.”  
  
“Mon ami, it looks lovely,” Lafayette gushed, gesturing to the largely red and golden exterior. Gryffindor colors, he’d joked, the colors of his blood. The walls were covered with simple abstract paintings, and there were brown leather couches that looked like the pinnacle of comfort - he remember how James had labored over finding the right ones, calling Aaron at every shop he visited until he'd finally stumbled on an antique store that just happened to have four of them that were in near-mint condition. And Aaron just felt - so right. Standing here with the person who'd been with him from the beginning. (He almost expected Thomas and James to materialize from behind and surprise him with an over-the-top banner and shit.)

“I’m proud of you,” Lafayette beamed, clapping a hand on Aaron's back, then paused. “Do you think you’re ready?”  
  
Aaron turned to face his friend, now co-manager of the coffeeshop he’d worked so long to own and create and conceptualize.  
  
“Yeah,” he grinned. “Yeah, I think I am.”  
  
-  
  
The morning was off to a slow start, as San Franciscans apparently had definitive favorite coffeeshops to go to, but Aaron noted, not without a bit of pride, he was seeing a lot of familiar faces venture into the shop after being told that both him and Lafayette had opened their own area. By nighttime, it was filled up, and during a lull, Aaron shot a disbelieving look to Lafayette.  
  
“Can you believe it? People came,” he said, still a little dumbstruck.  
  
“If you build it, they will come,” Lafayette shrugged, quoting _Field of Dreams_. Aaron rolled his eyes at his friend’s cheesy use of quotes, but felt his heart warm anyway, and pulled the other man into a hug.  
  
“Thank you for everything,” he murmured. He felt himself start choking up, but Lafayette clapped him on the back and reminded him that they still had customers to serve, including Thomas and James, who had came in promptly for the opening, though Thomas had made such a huge spectacle, announcing in a theatrical voice that "the one, the only, the Burr-tiful Aaron Burr, has brought his talents to the San Francisco coffee scene-" that a flustered Aaron had shoved them out the door and made them promise to come back later. Thomas was currently shooting him a dopey thumbs up and James was flushed with pride.  
  
As he alternated between making coffee, joking with Lafayette, and surveying the area around him, Aaron couldn’t stop smiling to the point that he was worried his mouth would fall off - he didn’t think he’d ever been this happy in his life. After struggling to fit into places for the longest time, he found that he was right where he needed to be. He could feel that this shop would last - that it would be his legacy, that he would be able to guide it and help it grow.  
  
Even with Alex, he hadn’t come close to that feeling - a little bit of his stomach curdled at the thought, but he pushed it down - and part of him was proud that he’d come farther than him. Come farther than that.  
  
But either way, he knew that today marked the beginning of so much more than he had imagined, and as he and Lafayette locked up the coffeeshop at twelve a.m., aided by Thomas and James, who were de facto employees anyway ("You're lucky you get my services for free," Thomas joked), he was more pumped than ever to get up at six a.m. the next day and start working.  
  
-  
  
Day after day, Aaron saw the line at Bean There, Done That grow longer and longer, to the point that two baristas, even with their two-hour lunch break, was nowhere near enough to handle business. Starting the search for new baristas ate up even more of Aaron’s time, but he couldn’t help but feel excited about it anyway - it was a new chapter of their coffeeshop, a new start.  
  
And he’d met some pretty incredible people. There was George Washington, who groaned at Aaron’s beginning quip during the interview about him bearing a passing resemblance to a certain founding father, but had a smile in his eyes anyway, and made a damn good mocha. Plus he attracted the teenage girl crowd from nearby San Francisco State, who couldn't stop fussing over George's eyebrows. (The man did have pretty majestic eyebrows, he'd admit it.)

There were the Schuyler sisters, Peggy, Angelica, and Eliza: each was working for different reasons - Eliza, who'd just finished junior year at UC Berkeley, to meet people and have fun; Angelica, in her last year at UC Berkeley, to earn money to put herself through law school, “because even with scholarships, apparently educating is too damn precious to get for free," she'd rolled her eyes; and Peggy, who just graduated high school and  sincerely had a passion for coffee, making her Aaron's protegee, of sorts. ("She complains about how boring you are, which makes her a winner in my book," Lafayette chuckled once, and Aaron threatened to pour boiling espresso down his back, only half-jokingly.)  
  
And lastly, Theodosia. She was witty - matching Aaron’s sarcasm with her own - and kind, picking up the slack more than a few times when Aaron was almost falling asleep on the job, and she quickly became many customers’ favorite barista - “even though I started the entire business,” Aaron would grumble - because of the inside jokes she shared with them.  
  
All in all, he felt like he had a solid crew, and seeing them each go home satisfied with their work for the day never failed to bring a smile to his face.  
  
As time passed, Aaron found that his humble coffeeshop was gaining more attention, and with it rave reviews on Yelp, to the point that his coworkers - “Attention whores, the lot of you,” he joke -  begged him to put the “Yelpers love us!” sticker on their window. There was never really a lull in the day, but best of all, despite the fame, he loved that he constantly got to see familiar faces.  
  
Among them was, of course, Thomas Jefferson, whom he was incredibly grateful to - Thomas had to get some frou-frou drink, though, some shit with soymilk and almond milk and five shots of caramel plus rosewater in a mocha, and he was glad that whenever Thomas came in Theodosia happened to be working and humored his crazy requests. But Thomas always shot Aaron a friendly smile, and whenever Aaron had his break at the same time that Thomas came in the two of them would have heated but friendly conversations over politics and movies and everything in between. James, thankfully, who usually accompanied Thomas, asked for something simpler, alternating between black coffee and a regular latte, "when he was feeling artsy," he chuckled. When not with Thomas, he'd come in to work on art, and call Aaron when he was on a break to ask for his opinion.   
  
There was also John Adams, who was initially quiet but began to open up when Aaron drew terrible smiley faces on his cup. The man looked so stressed all the time that Aaron thought he could use a pick-me-up, in the form of terrible drawings. (It was a shame, Aaron thought, that he could draw well with coffee foam but was shit at markers.) Soon, Adams turned as animated as a shy person could be, gesturing at times so wildly that it garnered dirty looks from others in the line.  
  
He was helping said John Adams, having a conversation about Pride month, when he saw a familiar face he’d never expected to see again. Suddenly, he felt himself shutting down, and both John and Lafayette noticed.  
  
“You wanna step to the back real quick?” Lafayette asked, concern in his voice when he saw where Aaron’s eyes were directed.  
  
“Nah,” Aaron said. “I’m fine.” He took a deep breath, and realized that he was. He could do this.  
  
When Alex got to the front of the line, Aaron said pleasantly, “Hi, welcome to Bean There, Done That. How can I help you?”  
  
A slight smile graced Alex’s face, and Aaron couldn’t help but acknowledge that he was exactly as he remembered, an Alex at his best: vibrant, energetic, gorgeous. He looked, unlike before, that he was put-together - but one thing hadn't changed. He was still sarcastic as fuck.  
  
“Are you Aaron Burr?” he asked, mock-seriously.  
  
“Well,” Aaron smiled, “This name tag apparently seems to agree with you. What’s your name?”  
  
“I’m Alexander Hamilton.”  
  
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”  
  
They smiled at each other, and shook hands.  
  
“You asked how you could help, and I just have one question: May I have your number?”  
  
That elicited a roll of the eyes from Aaron. “It’s the same one, Mr. Hamilton - you of all people should know that.”  
  
“Call me Alex.”  
  
“Call me later.” Aaron winked.  
  
And though the other customers complained that Alex was holding the line up, Aaron found that this time, he didn’t mind. He didn’t mind letting Alex into his life, and giving him another chance. They’d both fucked up, but today was a new day. A clean slate.   
  
Somewhere, they heard a new song starting.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry if this isn't necessarily "happy" aha 
> 
> my idea of happy endings involves new beginnings and people who are more whole than they were before :") 
> 
> but as you can guess, things probably go more swimmingly for the pair this time. i mean, as swimmingly as they can!
> 
> title is taken from "why" from tick, tick...boom! ^


End file.
